


Royal Ass Treatment

by Anonymous



Series: Down & dirty (Avalanche remix) [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Colorado Avalanche, Come Swallowing, Glory Hole, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: EJ's had this particular itch for a long, long time. So it's time for him to get it scratched. Throughoughly.





	Royal Ass Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> This particular idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I started to write and it all really blew up into a massive PWP. If you want to read about EJ getting banged, you're at the right place!
> 
> Alternative summary would've been: "It's like a spa, except for his ass, and with a lot of come." - and that probably would've been more accurate.
> 
> That being said: before you dive into the banging bits of this fic - a word or two about the sex in this fic. In RL, the sex EJ has would be considered potentially risky, because he's doing it without protection. The ways and methods he could implement to protect himself are not included in this fic - nowadays there is medication to keep one from catching HIV even when doing it bareback. Similarly, there is medication to treat other STDs. That doesn't mean one _should_ have sex without condoms, of course, just that someone _could_.

„Do you have your key card?”

EJ nods, holding up the plastic with one hand and clutching his bag with the other.

“Alright, sweet, so I’m gonna show you your room and explain everything.”

She walks out of the door and after a quick breath, EJ follows her. Now there won’t be a turning back – not that there’d been a moment to do that, not really. He’d made his decision and he’ll stick to it, even though he is so, so out of his depth, ever since having entered the building. As soon as he’ll – be – well, there, as soon as Sandra will show him, he’s probably going to freak out completely and maybe turn on his heels and go and curse himself stupid on the way and wonder what the fuck he’d been thinking. Sounds extremely likely, at least.

“So this would be yours, for the evening.”, she says and unlocks an unassuming door, “It’s key card locked, so you’re the only one who’s gonna get in – except for us, of course.”

Not that he’d admit it, but he does hesitate for a tiny moment, before following her. 

The room is tiny, barely enough to drop his bag. To his left, there’s a shower nook and a toilet - and the rest of the room is basically just the doorway to the neighbouring room.

“Okay, here’s the shower. There’s stuff you can use, if you want, to clean yourself.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t elaborate, but EJ’s face is still burning, because he very well noticed there wasn’t only soap and towels neatly prepared on the sink – there’d been, well, an enema, too. And. Well. 

His grip on his bag tightens and suddenly he feels stupid for having packed his own stuff. Of course they’d have stuff, so he’d be – well, clean –

But Sandra goes on as if it’s normal. For her, it probably is not any more special than buying some bread or anything, her daily business. Literally.

EJ’s heart is almost jumping out of his throat with nerves.

“Here’s the bench…you read the info material?”

He sure did, probably a dozen times over, after the confirmation had come in and he’d booked the evening. Still, it’s something else to read about things and – seeing them right in front of him.

It looks like any other massage bench, really – if it wasn’t for the hole in the wall. 

“Okay, so. You get comfortable, and put your legs up – if you’re not lying right, one of ours will come along before it really starts and check everyone and tell you, okay? That, and we’ll tell you when it’s about to start….oh yeah, and here.”

She points to a bright red button on the wall, in easy distance from the bench.

“That’s for emergencies. If something happens you really don’t like: slap that one. We’ll come and check you. That’d also be the only reason we’d enter your room during the evening, ok? Otherwise you won’t be interrupted. You’ll be monitored from the other side only, but that’s so we can keep an eye on patrons treating everyone with respect.”

Sandra isn’t telling him anything new, really – almost all of that had been in the papers he’d received when booking, but still: hearing it from her and being in this room, where everything will happen, that’s…something else altogether. Nothing like he’d ever imagined it to be and yet even so much better, and that’s before anything has happened.

“Okay, that’s the most important stuff, basically. Questions?”

He shakes his head. The questions he does have, she won’t be able to answer. Mainly: how will it feel? If he’s quite honest, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to do it, and it is definitely not her job to either answer that question and insecurity, nor is it her job to hold his hand and talk him through it. He signed up for this, because he had wanted it, in the comfy warmth of his bedroom and his fantasies. He had wanted it, for months, almost years, before daring to even look it up, and even longer until he’d signed up for it. One evening. Just to try.

“If that’s it, then, please sign here”, she holds a little clipboard up. 

Skimming the text just reveals that he’s supposed to sign that he’s been shown the facilities and been told about everything and now had no further questions.

It’s probably silly, but he’s read every paper they’ve presented him. Paranoia, most likely, because he really expects it all to blow up in his face. So far, however, they’ve been worth every single penny he’s spent – and that’s been quite the sum, if he’s honest. All of it spent on their discreetness and the promise of absolute anonymity. – Which is important, because must never ever, under no circumstances whatsoever, cross into his day job. Never. There are sex things he likes and there is hockey he likes and those are two neat little brain boxes that could never ever knock against eachother, and so far he has been successful, mostly at least.

“Alright, see you later, we’ll knock as soon as the evening is over and the last patron has gone!”, Sandra rips him from his thoughts as she addresses him and then turns to go.

“Yeah”, he says, finally, belatedly.

The door falls shut behind her and the ensuing silence is deafening. 

Half an hour. That’s how long he’ll have until the first – guy. Will come. 

He swallows heavily. It would be very easy to just walk out, the same way he’d come in: the hallways have big labelled arrows, he wouldn’t get lost on his way out. And he’d maybe seen two people in general, ever since having left his car in the car park below the building. No one would notice he hadn’t pulled through, except that one hole-in-the-wall would stay empty.

No one would notice that it was him behind this hole, either.

He drops the bag, as much out of the way as he can, and goes to the bathroom nook. A cleaning wouldn’t technically be necessary for him – he’d done so, extensively, at home already, too nervous to trust them, too nervous to trust himself to do it, if he had to clean himself somewhere that wasn’t home. 

Showering after training, after matches, is nothing like this. Nothing. That’s routine, that’s his daily life. But standing somewhere and using an enema and feeling it in his belly, knowing what it did with him and what he’d do, soon, was something else altogether. 

When he considers himself clean – having showered again, because he’d been sweaty with anxiety and nothing could help that one, really -, he walks back to the bench. He’s tempted to lube himself up, because soon there’d be – but then, he had booked the other option, the…

A quick glance out, into the room – his nerves well up, because somehow this makes it more real, driving home what is about to go down, and what had he been thinking –

His hole is slightly elevated – probably less comfortable for them to fuck, perhaps even this might be enough for them to suggest another option, even if there wouldn’t be a sign. He’d booked that, but hadn’t asked about that, fuck, he’d forgotten to ask if they’d hung the sign -

In the end, he decides to lube himself up lightly. Enough to ease his nerves, calm down a bit – even if they did decide to finger or even fuck him, they wouldn’t do it dry. And if they decided to, well, there wouldn’t be too much lube to draw them away. 

Okay. Now he’s got to…

He lies down, on his back – before he remembers the gag and jolts up again, this time the simple rubber gag between his teeth. Unlatched, of course, because he isn’t risking anything. But he wants this, in case he needs to bite down on anything.

Alright, but now. 

Flopping and robbing forward like a seal on land probably looks like the most stupid shit he’s ever done, but thankfully he doesn’t have to go far. Manoeuvring until his ass is sticking through the hole is slightly more difficult. And not made any easier by the hole being…quite obviously not being made for hockey sized asses and thighs. 

He struggles slightly in getting where he wants to be, and it takes him a few moments. But then he is slotted perfectly: he’s halfway folded up, lower back and ass and thighs sticking out. Must be quite the view, he’s sure. His face is burning hot at the thought of how he has to look like, from the other side. Presenting himself, like this – and they’ll see how much he’s into it, too, will see how hard he’ll get. 

Taking a deep breath, he leans up and locks his ankles in the leather cuffs on the wall. They’re surprisingly soft and will hold his legs easily – he won’t be able to hold his legs up all night, most likely. 

Now he’s got to wait for the first visitors.

God, he must look like a – and he has a million thoughts and quite a few words for how he must look like, from the other side, and it shouldn’t send this hot bubbling through him. But it does. Experiencing for real what he’d gotten himself off to for so long is something else entirely. 

Alright, he can do this. 

His heart is still beating harder than during a hard match going into OT. 

The waiting is both too long and too short. Too long because he swears he’s been lying like this for hours already – and too short, because it feels like has barely gotten comfortable in this unusual position, before there’s already the noise of many people. Specifically, several men.

If his heartbeat had calmed down at all, it’s going absolutely crazy as soon as he hears the creak of the door behind the wall and…

There are men and while they’re not talking, they’re walking around. And even more are coming, with every creak of the door, there are scraps of conversation floating in and getting choked off as soon as the door shuts again.

EJ almost jolts right through the room when there’s a sudden smack across his ass, not pulling any punches, a spank with the broad palm. Fuck.

He shudders out a wet breath.

“Mmhm, what an ass you have on you, bitch.”, a low men’s voice croons, before his ass cheeks are spread and –

Fucking shit.

He bites down on his gag, harshly, suddenly glad for the rubber in his mouth.

The beard scratches between his ass cheeks, and the tongue thrusting into his ass is wet, slick, and he doesn’t know what he wants more of. 

All too soon it disappears again, and he gets another two smacks, in quick succession, before fingers rub across his asshole, before they, too, are drawn away. 

“That ass of yours is as juicy as promised”, a wet smack of lips.

Men’s laughter, and –

A belt buckle.

EJ bites the gag, even before anything happens. 

The cock rubs between his ass cheeks – the man comments on this, but EJ doesn’t understand what he’s saying, it might be in another language. But then, it might be English – right now he might not even notice a purple pig flying circles around him, if he’s honest. 

The cock rubbing between his ass cheeks is slick with lube, thank fuck – and then, it aligns and pushes in, slowly but steady, and it’s fat. Shorter than he’d like, if he’s honest. The man doesn’t spread his ass cheeks as far as he could to fuck deeper, but it doesn’t matter. His cock is spreading EJ just this tad of too much after nothing but some fingering and a short tongueing, almost too much – it burns, slightly. If the man was fucking him in honest, it definitely would be worse, but the guy seems happy enough to roll his hips slightly, cock only moving slightly.

EJ sighs and closes his eyes.

Before too long, the grunting gets louder and the grip on EJ’s hip gets harsher, the thrusting faster, and then – the guy must be coming, because he stills. And pulls out.

Immediately, there’s someone else taking his position, his hold on EJ is better – he’s spreading EJ’s ass, slightly, which means he can’t hold on as well. It also means he can thrust better, which he does. His hips snap against EJ’s in a quick, merciless rhythm, fucking him. 

No. Not quite. Not fucking him, exactly. Getting off, yes. Getting off in EJ’s ass.

He makes a noise that’s only half-stifled by the gag. The guy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; he doesn’t stop. His thrusting does exactly nothing for EJ, doesn’t get him off, doesn’t nail his prostate, doesn’t play with his rim – it’s only for the guy’s pleasure, for him to get off.

And that’s what punches these sounds from EJ, makes him squirm – as much as he can. It shouldn’t be hot.

It is, though.

He’s used, like a toy, like a warm hole to fuck into, nothing more. It’s hot, makes arousal curl in EJ’s belly, somewhere below all that shame –

The guy could fuck him forever but doesn’t. Because of course not, he’s here to get off. This time, EJ could swear he can feel it, a wet rush. 

He sure feels it when the guy pulls out, because some of it trickles out before he can clench shut.

Before he can catch his breath, however, there’s the next one, keeping his ass cheeks spread, air cool on his rim.

“Fuck”, this guy curses and readjusts his hold on EJ’s hips.

They’ll probably bruise, if this goes on like that the whole evening. Finger tips on his hips, finger nails digging into the skin as they fuck him – even if the come will be washed away and the soreness will be gone after a few days, the bruises will stay, will remind him. 

And like this, it goes on. Men after men, in quick succession. Fucking him, some fingering him before they thrust into him. Coming inside him.

EJ doesn’t particularly keep track of the men fucking him. There are many, yes, even though it lulls slightly after the first mad rush of cock after cock fucking him, coming inside him. It’s all a rush of cocks fucking him, using him, as if he’s just a useful wet, warm hole.

At some point it slows down – enough that he can feel the come slowly starting to trickle out of his ass. At first, he tries to keep the come inside, doesn’t want to make a mess – but then the next man fucks him and presses a finger inside next to his cock, spreading him just so open enough that he can’t help dripping everywhere, even though he doesn’t want to. It just comes out, slops everywhere, smearing across his ass, his ass cheeks. Some thrusts squelch wetly enough that he not only can feel them doing so but can also hear it. 

The man laughs and after he’s come in EJ’s ass, he makes sure to smear his finger across EJ’s thighs, leaving streaks of come. Several men’s come.

After that one, both his asshole and his cock throb and he wishes he could get another one like that and jerk himself off at the same time. Someone who’d fuck him sloppily, squeezing in a finger just to spread him this tiny bit more, just making sure he’d be unable to clench around him, every thrust dripping and squelching out come, because he’s been fucked too often to keep it in his ass -

No such luck. – Even worse: the next one eats his ass. 

Just spreads him open and gets down to it immediately, kissing his rim, before lapping at him: wide, long licks, interspersed with some kisses. The tip of his tongue slightly bumps against his rim every few licks – just a maddening tease, nothing else, because the guy just uses the broad of his tongue, licking him.

EJ’s cock is throbbing, almost painfully, but it earns nothing but a muffled hum he can feel against his ass cheeks more than he can hear it. There’s beard stubble slightly scratching him.

A kiss, right on – oh fuck, alright. EJ takes a deep breath and tries not to gnash his teeth, because fuck, it shouldn’t be hot to have his asshole basically kissed. He’s been kissed on the mouth with less reverence, what is this guy – 

But the guy just presses light kisses on his rim, his ass, everywhere: light kisses, sometimes smacking wetly. The tip of his tongue darts out sometimes, especially at his rim, teasing him. Short, brief licks, a promise of more. 

The grip on his ass cheeks gets stronger, fingers almost digging into the meat of it, and then –

EJ whimpers, honest to god, as the guy slowly pushes his tongue into him. Just a quick thrust, light, barely breaching him before withdrawing.

His cock is still ignored and EJ would cry, because how, it’s right there and he’s so hard it hurts, it probably wouldn’t take too much…but it doesn’t matter what he wants, because the guy is in charge, and he makes muffled little noises against EJ’s ass as if he’s starving for it while he laps at his rim. There’s spit dripping down his ass, and for some reason it makes him shiver – it’s not the first time he’s had his ass eaten, but never had it be done like this. As if his ass is – the guy eats him out like he is dying for it, like EJ’s ass is what he’d been needing, like he loves it, like he needs it as much as EJ wants it, needs it, and EJ, god, he wants to grind down on the guy’s face. Wants to keep him right there, grab his hair while the guy is buried in his ass, eating him out.

The way this guy is licking into him, opening him up like EJ hadn’t just been fucked by at least a dozen men – it feels so good, so brilliant, the way that tongue gently but persistently coaxes him open. It is impossible to clench down on that tongue wriggling into him, that mouth, sucking slightly. The slurps he could swear he could hear, through the wall, and could definitely feel against his skin. 

His rim feels too sensitive, as does his body, and if he wasn’t stuck in his position as he was, he’d probably writhe, desperate for more and yet already caught in how it all was too much.

The guy moans lightly and murmures something muffled into his ass, as if it is the best thing he’d eaten since forever, before he thrusts his tongue back in, pushing in, out, almost fucking EJ with it, before he licks at his rim again, sloppily wet. EJ’s ass got to be a right mess by now.

He bites his gag and buries his face in his hands as the guy – sucks, who does that, except the guy did, and swallowing, the guy swallows, in a big, audible gulp. Fuck. That couldn’t just have been spit, right? Did he swallow down the come? Did he really just – 

But he had to, EJ had no illusions: he’d been fucked by men and they had definitely come in his ass, so yeah, it had to be there and, well, that had been a gulp so this guy had to have swallowed –

So, the guy definitely just must’ve swallowed some of it. Probably has swallowed some of it already, during his – ass eating, really. How much come had he licked right from EJ’s ass? The come of other men, the guy had to have known there’d be that, when he’d gotten to it. And yet, he had eaten him.

Is still rimming him. Lapping at his ass lick he’d crawl and thrust deeper, if only he could, all while making these tiny, punched out noises that could’ve come right from EJ himself, if he wasn’t all gagged. 

He can feel the little bursts of breath against his skin as the guy whines, as if he can’t help it, as if it’s so good he has to make these noises while turning EJ’s ass into a sloppy mess. 

God, if only he could move, he’d be squirming under the guy’s ass-eating. The guy barely stops to breathe, it feels like, and laps and kisses the rim and then slips his tongue inside – not even to fuck EJ with it – as if he could do so properly with his tongue. No tongue is long enough to do so like a cock would, especially not after all the fucking he’s been getting this evening so far.

No, the tongue just pushes inside, wet and slick, before withdrawing, and it’s not a real fucking, no substitute for a cock. But it’s an almost. A promise. A maybe. It’s sloppy enough that EJ tries to clench down, except that’s useless, he can’t, for some reason, as if he’s been getting eaten so nice and well that his ass just can’t clench down on this tongue, whatever it is – but it’s not enough that he’s fucked as good as he wants to be.

God, he’s never wanted fingers in his ass as much as he does. Or a cock. Something nice and fat stretching him open. Another round with those men fucking him and coming inside of him -except that would mean other men and he doesn’t want to, he wants this guy to finally take what he deserves, what he’s earned, at least twice over, if not more: the guy’s cock in his ass. God, by now he doesn’t even care what kind of cock it is, even if it’s a thin, short cock, he wants it. Needs it. The guy can fuck him with his fingers too, if his cock can’t stretch him out properly. 

Anything. He just wants it so much his eyes are prickling, because that tongue feels so good, so perfect, so utterly, utterly good he wants to sob and find out if he’s able to come on nothing but getting rimmed like this – he hasn’t, not until now. But the way this guy is sloppily eating him out, tip of his tongue curling behind the rim – he – EJ thinks he could. 

And maybe the guy would. Would keep his head buried in his ass, taking his time to rim him to a painful orgasm, just taking his time until EJ was bawling with how much it all felt like, unable to do anything to make the guy go faster, give him more. Maybe it was someone patient. Someone who could ignore his own cock.

EJ really hopes the guy isn’t. 

Fuck, please let the guy be someone who wants to fuck someone.

He wants it. Wants the guy to fuck him, just to feel a cock in his ass, just to feel the proof that this guy likes it too. These noises are a good sign and they make him shiver with it, with how it feels and sounds like this guy wants it too – that, and no one would eat ass like this, so much and so good, if they didn’t like it.

Right?

He wants the proof in his ass. A cock, hard, pushing into him, fucking the ass prepared just for it, and fuck. Just the thought of getting fucked like this, after this much ass eating – 

EJ clenches down as much as he can – it isn’t much, not anymore: his asshole is a sloppy, puffy mess, too eaten out to clench shut. But enough.

The guy groans, before smacking a wet kiss on his rim –

And then he’s gone.

EJ can’t help it, he whines, body throbbing with it: his skin and legs but mostly his ass are sensitive, it’s overall a lot to feel and take in and now that there’s just nothing, for the first time in what feels like hours – no cock, no fingers, no mouth – it’s a lot. 

His heart is racing –

The clink of a belt snapping against the wood of the wall.

Oh, god please.

Never in his life has EJ wanted someone’s cock as much as he does now and please, he just wants the guy to fuck him, please don’t let him jerk off over EJ’s ass or anything else, really – 

\- and then there’s a wet tip pressing against his rim.

Just slightly.

EJ could sob in relief. God, finally, thank you.

The guy doesn’t push in, just stretches him slightly, and if he could, EJ would tell him to just fuck him properly, now please – but the guy takes his time. Slowly nudges inside, taking his time.

It doesn’t even burn. Christ.

His ass feels full and stretched and he feels full and sensitive and it’s so good his toes curl. There’s no lube slicking him to make this guy’s cock fit into him. No, the only thing is spit – there probably isn’t any of the other men’s come left, no way, the guy must’ve all licked it right out of him. 

It’s just spit and the way this guy has rimmed him open and slick and relaxed and now, finally, his cock is pushing him open. Pushing and pushing and pushing, never pulling back, never withdrawing, just taking it painfully slow as he thrust inside, until, finally. 

Finally. After an age, he is finally there and inside and – EJ really does sob at that, because finally the guy’s cock is all properly inside. Stretching him, and as much as he wants to, he can’t even clench shut, doesn’t even want to, because his ass feels the perfect amount of full. Like it was made for this cock – no, like the guy ate him out until he did –

The guy pulls out slightly, and EJ scrabbles at the bench under him, because fuck –

It’s almost too much. The cock in his ass is a snug fit, just perfectly, just so fitting into him, and his rim is too sensitive and when the guy pulls out, it’s dragging on his rim, too much for his ass. He whimpers, but the guy either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care, because he starts rolling his hips. 

Not even proper thrusting – if he wanted, he could fuck EJ hard, make him scream properly.

But the guy just moves lightly, more of a circling of his hips. Not thrusting to fuck him, to hit his prostate – but to drag on his rim, to really make him feel it. 

And he takes his time, too, as if he isn’t hard, as if he isn’t buried in EJ’s ass, as if his cock wasn’t fat and lovely and right there and god, why couldn’t he just fuck EJ, he wants him to. He wants him to just snap his hips against EJ’s ass, finally taking what he needs to come, because fuck – his come would drip out of EJ and there’s nothing he could do about it, not after this cock, and especially not after that ass eating, he probably couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t make himself. And so he’d lie there, ass stuck out, and he’d go home, and his ass would throb with it, slick and wet and puffy from the rimming – and that’s ignoring all the fucking he’d gotten before, because he had, so many men – and yet the only come in his ass would be this guy’s, it had to be. 

God, he wants him to. Wants that come in him, that orgasm –

The thrusts stay at their maddeningly slow pace; without a worry in the world, the guy just moves his hips slightly. His cock barely fucks out of EJ’s ass, always staying firmly inside, and that is the only thing that keeps EJ from going completely mad. If the guy pulled out and EJ’s ass would be completely empty, he’d probably go utterly and absolutely mad with it. 

As it is, there’s a cock in his ass, fucking him just so that his rim is getting it, really getting it, stretched out on it, slick and wet and open and he wants to cry, wants to beg. Just taking out the gag and beg the guy to fuck him, please, he needs it and he wants it like he’s never wanted anything – 

A thumb presses against his rim, and –

Maybe it was just to check if he’s wet enough for him – whatever it was, whatever it is for, the thumb presses against his asshole, and the Maybe this means: the thumb pushing in, fucking him open, maybe, stretching him, maybe, finally giving him something he wants and needs and –

\- and it makes him sob out, eyes wet and lashes clumpy and he bows, stomach clenching and his legs feel like cramping up.

God, it hurts how good it feels, he’s shaking with it.

The thumb presses harder, and then it pops in and it’s a tiny, almost painful burst with how this is too much, too much, too – much, and he grunts, biting down on his gag, as his body hurts with how much he is coming –

It’s going on what feels like forever, like there is no end to it, never again, until it is and he’s sagging down and trying to get air into his lungs. 

Jesus Christ.

He feels wrung out like he’s never felt before – his cock is throbbing with the last spurts, as the guy suddenly picks up speed -

Fuck. Of course he would.

EJ closes his eyes and bites his gag slightly, because this pace is just shy of being too much – instead it’s just right, drawing it out, coaxing him out and open and more and he shouldn’t anymore, can’t, really, where is it coming from, why, and how can he –

He grunts and digs his fingers into his palms harder as his body shakes with how tense he is as the guy fucks into him, cock now not only dragging and pushing and pulling and playing with his rim but now also nailing his prostate and fu-uck –

EJ curses and screams but the gag muffles it, so the guy keeps on fucking him, with sharp, quick bursts of it, and it’s so good it’s too much. 

It feels like he isn’t stopping, like the height of it, the tip of the orgasm won’t ever come, like he’s just forever coming, without ever ending, like this first lull was just that and not an end, never an end –

The guy’s hips snap against his, grinding into his ass, and the guy groans, moans like he’s forcing himself to be quiet, but is still coming, and his grip on EJ’s hips shakes as his finger nails dig into his skin. 

Fuck, the guy is really coming, he’s clutching EJ’s hips powerfully enough it hurts and he’s shaking with the force of it all.

EJ gasps for air, lying flat on his back, heart going a mile a minute, as he just tries to breathe. Christ.

His cock is still trying to pulse out more of an orgasm, despite having come already, it’s still trying and EJ would want to come more except he now really feels wrung out, limp, like he’s never going to be able to come again ever in his life. 

The guy wipes a thumb across his cock – probably wiping off some come – and EJ whimpers, trying to pull away from it, but unable to, even without him being strapped down: the guy holds him firmly still, and the guy’s cock is still in his ass, although softening slowly. 

It feels really good. If only the cock could stay forever, softening until it slipped from EJ’s ass, dripping with come and spit. It would be very easy, really –

But the guy pulls out, slowly but persistently, taking almost as much time as he did when fucking into him for the first time, and EJ tries to clench down, he really does, but it’s no use. The cock slips from his ass – but there’s no wet rush of come after it. So it’s all still inside, still in him, and that thought makes him smile slightly. Somehow – the guy ate him out all proper and well and fucked him too and now, EJ’s ass is a mess and all puffy and fucked out and now, finally, there is the guy’s load in him, proof that it’s not just EJ who got something from it.

Again, there’s a thumb pressing against his rim, but this time it’s too much and he winces and somehow the guy got it, because the thumb disappears.

“Are you okay?”, the guy asks, and while the wood muffles his voice –

EJ knows that voice.

The light lisp, that cadence, that everything, literally. Jesus Christ, no way. 

No fucking way.

He keeps silent and tries to breathe as quietly as he can in case Nate can recognize him – by what, breathing alone? What the fuck.

A quiet laugh.

“Alright then.”, a break, indrawn breath, “- ‘hope it was good for you.”

The guy’s – no, Nate’s, Jesus, it’s Nate, it is Nate who fucked him, who ate him out like his life depended on it, Nate – Nate –

“You came without being touched”, he says, and EJ buries his face in his hands, because yeah, he did, he came and it was the best orgasm he’s ever had and he doesn’t know how to reconcile that with the knowledge that it was Nate who made him come like that. Nate, of all people.

“God, you were so good.”

EJ’s face is burning hot – he can’t unclench his jaw enough to take out the gag, to let Nate know who he is saying this to, who he’s been fucking, whose ass he’s been eating –

But he can’t make himself. Just keeps still and whines as Nate – Nate! – licks his cock, and it almost hurts with how over-sensitive he is so soon after his orgasm, but Nate keeps his licks short, just to lick the come off of him. And he does. Every single drop EJ has been dripping on himself, Nate licks off. There’s probably more on the wall, the floor, on Nate. But Nate just laps at him, cleans him off until there’s no trace of an orgasm on him.

If EJ could, he’d get hard for that alone again. But he can’t, he’s all wrung out and exhausted and he just can’t. He’ll probably need a decade or two of no orgasms ever to recuperate from this. Possibly. Maybe more. And then the same amount to deal with the fact that it’s Nate. 

Now that he has placed the voice he can’t just not think of it, how it’s Nate’s tongue on his skin – how it’s been Nate’s tongue in his ass and his lips and his beard and how it was his cock that fucked him and how his come is still inside him and – all of it, it was Nate, it is Nate still and there’s nothing EJ could do, because he’s all trussed up like this, supposed to take it well and he had.

And EJ doesn’t want to do anything about it, even if he could. It’s not something he wants to look into right now, but yeah, he doesn’t want to do anything about it. Rather: he wants Nate to kiss him, with his slicked up lips and how they’d look like after this extensive rimming, how Nate would lick into his mouth – probably all filthy, and he’d taste like it, like EJ’s ass and the come of other men and he’d kiss EJ probably just as deeply, just as messily and sloppily and EJ wants it. Especially because it’s Nate.

But that’s something he really needs to consider – at home, preferably, somewhere where he can actually think and hasn’t just been fucked six ways to Sunday right out of his brain. 

Nate gently kisses his thigh and then withdraws.

“So, uh, thanks?”, it trails off slightly awkward and then he’s gone and the door swings open and shut again and –

That’s it. Nate is gone. 

Nate has just fucked him and didn’t know and EJ lies on his bench and just breathes because it’s a lot to – think about. And to feel. His body is still thrumming and throbbing with how good it was, how well and throughout he’s been fucked – easily the best sex he’s had in his life -, except. And that’s just it, this huge Except: it’s Nate.

He doesn’t know what to think, and his mind is spinning.

Thankfully, not much later he’s given the sign that they’re closing and locking the door on the other side and that he can now draw back again.

He does.

Starting to go home takes a lot of time: his legs are wobbly and he stumbles more than he walks to the shower. 

The rush of standing makes him feel the come starting to drip out by the time he’s in the bathroom nook. For a second, he just stands there, looking at his face in the mirror: his face is blotchy and sweaty and his eyes are red rimmed and he is, in general, a huge mess. 

And there’s Nate’s come in his ass, slowly starting to trickle out.

Nate who’s been fucking him into the next century, basically. – He bites his lower lip and grabs his plug and winces when pushing it in: it’s too much and his ass feels slightly sore in how overly sensitive it is. 

No come is outside, yet, and whatever’s been in his ass will now stay inside. 

He looks up again, looking at himself: now, he’s flushed, again. Still a mess. His fingers touch his asshole: it’s hot and puffy and spit-slicked. The touch of his fingers is too much, makes him clench down on the plug.

His face in the mirror is a grimace of arousal and pain, after all the fucking he’s gotten. He’s a mess – and somehow he still wishes Nate was here; in an abstract kind of way he really does want him to. It’s not something he could explain, not beyond this feeling how good it would be if Nate would have been the one to push the plug inside him, gently petting his ass cheeks and hips and hushing him, telling him how he needed to wear the plug so his come would all stay nicely locked up inside –

EJ swallows and turns away from the mirror. Imagining Nate is too easy, as if – as if now that he knows it’s been Nate, his mind is filling the slots all too greedily, easily, as if the box of things he mustn’t think about has been kicked wide open.

In the end, he washes himself only perfunctorily, just enough that he’s clean enough to put on his clothes again. There’s nothing he can do about his red-rimmed eyes or the way that he really, really does look like he’s been fucked out. 

Nate is the presence in the room EJ doesn’t allow himself to think about.

It only works partially.

By trying not to think about him, he’s always thinking about him, in a way, unable to shake it. That, and there’s still a plug nestled in his ass and that, he definitely cannot ignore. He wears it until he’s home, until he’s prepared himself dinner, the plug a perpetual reminder. And when he’s in bed, pulling it out of his ass, slowly, he’s biting the pillow in overstimulation, cock uselessly, valiantly trying to get hard and failing – he can feel the wet trickle of come against his rim, dripping out.

He doesn’t wipe it off.

*

_“Nate, hey, uh…do you maybe have a moment after training?”_

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then they talk about this like adults who are only _slightly_ humiliated by knowing they banged at a glory hole.


End file.
